


The Total PWP Where Sirius Talks Dirty While Shagging Harry Against a Wall

by petulantgod (prettyclever)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyclever/pseuds/petulantgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Total PWP where Sirius talks dirty while shagging Harry against a wall.</p><p>Warnings for being not the happiest story ever. Adult/teen sex. Messed up power dynamics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Total PWP Where Sirius Talks Dirty While Shagging Harry Against a Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Written for xylodemon's Crack!Fic Prompts. Inspired by ponderosa121's GORGEOUS art (now lost to the ages and LiveJournal's purges). Massive thank yous to the Deadly Viper Beta Squad: rosesanguina, tricksterquinn, meredyth_13, rosie_red73, supergrover24, and to everyone else who held my hand and stroked my ego.
> 
> Written in '04 or '05.

Harry steps from his room wearing the Invisibility Cloak, his fingers trembling as he walks slowly down the draughty hallway toward Mrs Black's portrait. Sirius told him to meet him there at three a.m. and there's nothing on earth that can keep Harry from Sirius. There's no one on earth who means more to Harry, who holds more promise of family and hope and home, and nothing matters more than making Sirius love him and making Sirius whole again.   
  
Obviously Sirius isn't quite whole. If he were properly sane, he wouldn't have asked Harry to meet him wearing a skirt. He wouldn't have kissed Harry's shock-slack mouth and left the taste of firewhisky burning through the sweetness of the pumpkin juice Harry had with his dinner. It doesn't matter though, not to Harry. Or rather, the ways in which it matters don't dissuade him. Everyone else thinks Harry's a kid, and they don't realise what he's been through, don't fucking understand how  _hard_  it is to be him, to be trapped in his own life, but Sirius does and he's on  _Harry_ 's side, and he doesn't need anyone else...  
  
Sirius stands beside the portrait, and though Mrs Black's mouth is open in a seizure of screaming, Harry can't hear a thing. Cruel, beady eyes glare at Sirius as he lounges against the wall, broad shoulders fitted into the corner at an indolent angle as though he owns the place... and he does. This is  _his_  place, and by that merit, Harry's. The thought of belonging somewhere at last makes Harry giddy and reckless, makes him whisk the cloak from around his shoulders with a flourish that Snape would envy and throw himself into his godfather's arms with a happy sigh.   
  
"You're here," Sirius breathes, and Harry is so glad he is.   
  
Sirius' eyes raking over his body make him feel more real, remind him that this is the one person who will never forget him, ignore him, neglect him... Sirius will never care about anyone else the way he cares about Harry, and Sirius will never leave him or go have fun without him or just do whatever he's told even when it means cutting Harry out of he loop-- Sirius will fight for Harry and he'll make sure people  _respect_  Harry. Sirius believes Harry isn't just a kid.  
  
Moonlight falls across Harry's face as he steps forward, and Sirius' long fingers trace gently over the line of his jaw as he cradles Harry's cheek in his palm, sending a shiver through Harry's body that reverberates in his heart long after his muscles still.   
  
"I love you," Sirius says, burying his face against Harry's messy hair, and Harry thinks he might burst with the way his heart swells in his chest.   
  
"Love you too," he mumbles, embarrassed, unsure of what exactly he's saying when he says it, but knowing whatever it is, he means it with all that's in him.   
  
Sirius' arms wind around him tightly, and Harry loses his breath a moment, and the scent of Sirius fills his mind, masculine and adult and mysterious, warm with alcohol and smoke and spice... "Need to remember how to be a man," he thinks he hears him murmur, but he isn't sure, and he's not certain this is the kind of thing one can ask about. Silently, Harry smoothes his hands down Sirius' back feeling as though he's back in Care of Magical Creatures and trying to tame a wild thing.  
  
Pulling away suddenly, Sirius looks down at him. "You love me?" he asks, voice deathly serious, terribly quiet.   
  
"More than anything," Harry replies without needing to think. "More than anyone."  
  
In a rush, Sirius pins him to the wall, his tongue flicking over Harry's lips and his body pressing hard and urgent against Harry's own, and resistance isn't a thought.  _Give_ , Harry thinks,  _Want to give him everything..._  and Harry knows that no matter how much he gives Sirius, Sirius will still be reflecting it all back at him, pouring into him every scrap of mad, fervidly devoted love that he has, and ohhhh Sirius has more love inside him than any human being should be capable of. Harry thinks he might drown in it, and he clings tightly to him, letting the belonging, the warmth, the love wash over him and it's so much more than he's ever in his life hoped to feel.  
  
"You want me," Sirius pants, breath hot and damp against Harry's neck as he slides his lips down Harry's throat in a line of tender kisses, the fingers of one hand bruising as they dig into Harry's arse a bit too hard, sliding up under his skirt to brush against skin.  
  
Thinking he should stop this, thinking this is wrong, Harry just tips his head back against the wall and arches his neck into Sirius' mouth. Good and bad aren't as clear as some people think, and Harry has never realised that more than he does as Sirius' palm squeezes his arsecheek, fingertips tickling softly against the undercurve and teasing down the crease...  
  
"You do this to me, Harry, make me feel like this... Do you even fucking know how you make me feel? Here," he mutters, voice strangled and pleading, and Sirius' other hand reaches for Harry's, fingers twining with his intimately, gentle and demanding as he pulls his hand slowly from thickly muscled thigh to sharp-angled hip to bulging crotch, and suddenly Harry's palm is pressed against Sirius' straining cock and all Harry can think is  _Sirius_  and then Sirius' mouth opens against his throat again, his teeth sinking slowly into tender flesh.   
  
Harry moans frantically, terrified and so turned on he can't see straight and he turns his face into Sirius' hair and the scent of shampoo and sweat fills his nostrils and blood fills his prick until it throbs painfully and he can't see straight as everything spins dizzily out of control. Sirius slides his palms up Harry's thighs, forcing his skirt up until cold air hits his skin. He's practically naked with his skirt 'round his hips and Sirius picks him right bloody up into the air like he's a toy and he  _is_  a toy, Sirius' toy, wants to be everything Sirius has ever wanted wants to be perfect for Sirius wants to please him wants him... and his back slams into the wall. Something blunt and hard and huge presses against his arse and he moans in mingled fear and unexplained, unknown longing, feeling so terribly empty....  
  
All he wants is to be filled, and Sirius leans his forehead against Harry's with a susurrant whisper. "Love you, Harry, so fucking beautiful, white skin green eyes smelling of innocence and sleep, thighs around my waist... think you could handle me?"   
  
And he steps forward closer, the heat of his cock the eye of the storm, a point of perfect clarity amidst the roiling chaos and nothing makes sense except the  _want_ , the aching desire for more, for something  _anything_  to fill the void and Harry whines softly and writhes in Sirius' arms, back pushing against the wall for leverage and legs wrapping more tightly around his waist. The underside of his prick skates over Sirius' stomach, and possibility opens to him, driving him to rub himself against Sirius, feeling the heady rush of pleasure rack through him as Sirius' finger slowly penetrates his asshole with tiny twists.   
  
Harry's mind explodes with all the ways he wants this and Sirius' voice fills his ears, mellifluous and deep between his ragged breaths. "Look at you sweating, sweating for me, want you to beg, Harry. Beg for my cock in your pretty little arse, beg me to fuck you right here where anyone could catch us..."  
  
So  _wrong_ , Harry thinks, but it doesn't matter at all and he's  _so_  close, and he thrusts against Sirius desperately, his back sliding up the wall, his shirt rucked up around his shoulders and the friction stinging his tender skin and he can't focus his gaze but he feels Sirius watching him, feels the intensity of that gaze burning him like live coals and he moans because he knows the price he's going to pay but he's not sure he can make it stop, not sure he wants to stop, and who fucking cares and he needs something, deserves something, is bloody well  _owed_... They both deserve this, deserve each other, and no one has the right to say they can't have that,  _no one_...  
  
"Open for me, Harry, want your sweet little hole gaping and hungry for me," Sirius murmurs, working his finger deliberately inside Harry's arse, circling his tight hole firmly and stretching the muscle until it's exhausted and throbbing... Harry feels it give, feels the moment when his defences surrender, and Sirius smiles at him from beyond the lusthaze, from beyond Harry's half-closed lids and the fog on his glasses. Blinking slowly, Harry smiles and closes his eyes as his head rolls back, and he gives up, gives in, capitulates to the promise of satisfaction inherent in Sirius' every movement.   
  
Prick slick with precome and his fingers reflexively clutching at nothing, Harry rocks mindlessly against Sirius' fingers, grinds his erection against Sirius' flat stomach and every movement earns him a gasp a sigh a growl and "Reach in my pocket," he says, and Harry does, like an automaton, pulling the little vial from Sirius' shirt and holding it blindly, clasping it in his hand like a priceless treasure.   
  
"Open it." A command, and Harry half-snarls before he twists the top off with shaking fingers, unable to think except to think that it's too much all at once and his senses are overloaded and his arse aches and his cock is twitching and Sirius smells like heaven and it's cold and anyone could see and it's so  _wrong_  and he's never been more turned on in his whole ruddy life and even though he  _hates_  being told what to do this is okay because Sirius  _wants_  him and Harry has no fucking clue what he's doing anyway...   
  
The scent of herbs fills the air, sharp and bright, and Sirius' lips brush against Harry's ear, sending a bone-jarring thrill though him, and he says, "Dip your little fingers in it, Harry, and push them in with mine," and the shock dazes him, leaving him blinking again, as though the world makes no sense at all, and Sirius' teeth close on his earlobe, a vicious nip that snaps him out of it. " _Now_ ," Sirius orders, and Harry obeys, dipping his fingers into the slippery salve and forcing trembling muscles to move, reaching beneath his own body to push his fingers into his arse beside Sirius', the vial falling unheeded to the floor with a quiet clink.   
  
"Yes," Sirius moans, humid breath gusting over Harry's shoulder as he drops his forehead to rest there, his body shaking against Harry's, and he gasps out, "Fuck yourself, Harry, until you're ready for me, until you need me inside you like I need to be there."   
  
Shuddering, Harry does; he slips his fingers deep within his own body, torn between the worry that they'll be caught and fascination at the strange sensations waking within him.   
  
"Stroke my cock," Sirius growls, his voice husky with need, and Harry fumbles a moment reaching for it, wrapping his fingers around it and trying for the life of him to figure out how it's going to fit, marvelling at how soft the skin is, and how he can feel Sirius' heartbeat in the pulse of the big vein beneath the pad of his thumb... It's enthralling and amazing and- "Slide onto me now, Harry. Go slowly, and I'll help you."  
  
Shifting gradually, Harry holds the head against his hole and lifts his hands to clutch at Sirius' chest as he shudders and pushes down hard.  
  
"Good boy, good... god, Harry, you sure you haven't done this?"  
  
Harry blushes bright, skin flaming as he bites into his lip and grabs numbly at Sirius' shoulder, shoving down onto Sirius' cock, and he gasps as the head slowly eases inside his body, the taut muscles burning as he pushes harder and feels the gradual slide of shaft past his entrance and inside him, and Sirius' hands on his hips hold him still.  
  
With a soft snarl, Sirius spins them, clutching Harry tightly against him and slamming him into the portrait, shoving Harry's back right against his mother's silently screaming canvas likeness. A wicked look of complete glee flits over Sirius' face, and then he cants his hips and changes their angle and  _thrusts_  and Harry thinks he might be losing his mind and everything slants madly and the world slides sideways and he whimpers and rocks against Sirius, rubbing and twisting and trying to turn himself inside out to hit  _that_  spot, and fuck he didn't... can't... god...   
  
"Tell me you want it, and I'll give it to you," Sirius breathes, and Harry nods breathlessly, eyes staring sightlessly at the distant ceiling, head lolling straight back, mouth going dry in the chilly air as his jaw hangs open. "Say it," he repeats, "Say it, say you need me to fuck you, tell me you need me to fill you.... Do you want me deep inside you? Want me to come inside you and let you stay full of me all day? Tell me you want me, Harry, need you to want me..."  
  
"Need," he gasps out, overwhelmed, "Please..."  
  
"Mmm," Sirius moans, and Harry's throat tightens and his breath stops, and he wants to scream but he can't find the air and suddenly he's so full, so full, and the pressure moves maddeningly past that spot and he writhes helplessly, wantonly, his skirt twisting around his waist and Sirius' hands steely and punishing on his arse and his cock sliding against Sirius' stomach, and...   
  
Their bodies arch and flow and the steady up down slide slither drag against the wall becomes the world, Sirius' broken whispers curses prayers washing over him and Harry rides him like he's never known anything else, completely lost in the perfection of the moment, of being filled - of being  _one_  - and he thinks he might black out thinks it's all too fucking much and then Sirius speaks again and his voice is every wet dream Harry's ever had.  
  
"Come for me, Harry... all over me, want you clenching around me, want your come on my skin, come on, Harry, fucking NOW," and Harry explodes, like a wave like a fire flowing up burning through from soles of his feet to the top of his head like summer coming from the bottom of his soul and blossoming through his flesh warm and comfortable and beautiful and free...  
  
Even as Harry floats in this dream of pleasure, he feels the painful jerk of Sirius' hips into his arse, the rapid slam-thrust-slap of Sirius' cock driving inside him frantically, the dull rhythmic thud of his balls against his arse as his hips snap with desperate force, and Harry smiles through his dazed satiety, and he whispers, "Want you, Sirius," and suddenly every muscle freezes, Sirius' handsome face wreathed in shadow and silky black hair and carved into an expression of utter bliss that borders on agony. Harry thinks he's never seen anyone more perfect in his life.   
  
After what seems like eternity and can only be a few moments, Sirius pulls out of him, and to Harry, it's like losing his soul. A whimper chokes from him and Sirius holds him close, kisses his forehead and strokes his cheek, tells him everything words can never say, and Harry pulls the Invisibility Cloak on and goes up the stairs to bed, telling himself a story of how soon he can live here always, soon he can be with Sirius always, always. And for the first time in recent history, when Harry drifts into sleep, the nightmares stay far, far away, and the anger inside him sleeps when he does.


End file.
